


Part 1: Fragile

by SesameiBun



Series: Requiem of the Promised [1]
Category: Purple Hyacinth (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, F/M, My First AO3 Post, My First Fanfic, Sad Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:42:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24117454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SesameiBun/pseuds/SesameiBun
Summary: "It was a suicide mission, but Kieran was willing to do it if she could be spared. If not his humanity, his innocence, or his honor, at least he could keep Dylan's promise..."
Relationships: Lauren Sinclair/Kieran White
Series: Requiem of the Promised [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740154
Kudos: 47





	Part 1: Fragile

Petals of cold white drifted silently outside the window. The moon, unobscured by the cloudless night, bathed the bandaged figure on the bed with a watery glow.  
Lauren's breathing was faint, but the gauze managed to keep the blood from spilling out of her deep wounds. Paler than a ghost, Lauren's skin seemed to drift in and out of translucency, almost blurring with the milky moonshine that touched it.

To Kieran, the colorless skin, the closeness to death, was familiar; the chilling adrenaline, though, was not. Sitting beside the bed which Lauren seemed to lie but not quite lie on, he was wary that the slightest movement would blow her away, like a snowflake in the winter wind. Finally, he tentatively reached his hand out and brushed his fingertips over Lauren's wrist. Finding a steady pulse, he sighed and sat back in his chair.

He himself had not escaped unscathed either; a deep cut ran across his back and sliced deeply into his muscles. Every movement brought a searing pain, but the blood which stained the kitchen floor was not from his wounds. Lauren had lost more blood than him, and the thinness of her body took the hit harder than he would.

The floor creaked and Lauren did not notice Kieran leaving the room. Closing the bedroom door behind him, Kieran let out a heavy sigh. Dark troubling waters of dread startled swirling in his mind.

They had seen him, but not her. In the confusion of the darkness, they had not cut him, but her. And it was she who fired the critical bullet from the darkness that wounded the Apostle, whose blade was two inches from Kieran's throat. Barely escaping with their lives, he and Lauren had stumbled back to the apartment, where Lauren collapsed against the doorframe, smearing the wood red with blood.

Kieran gritted his teeth. This was his fault. In his area of expertise, it ended up being Lauren who saved them both. A moment of carelessness was all it took for his identity to be revealed. They would send someone after him soon. But if he went to them first, they might not find Lauren…

As Kieran bent to retrieve his bloody sword, an excruciating pain cleaved through his back. He winced and slowly righted himself. He had already treated and bandaged the laceration, but for some reason, the pain tugged at something in his conscience. It was the faint memory of the time when, in an indescribably long while, he didn't have to tend to his own wounds. The sensation of the gentle, but firm tugging of the bandages and the stinging burn of the alcohol tread over his skin again. It was almost shocking how carefully Lauren had wrapped the gauze around his aching torso, movements quick and sure, but with a kind of caution and concentration in eyes—or maybe that was a trick of the light—while her fingers skillfully twisted the final knot.

Now, feeling the hastily wrapped bandages bound around his back, cold resolve sank into Kieran's gut. Despite still having the scar which sealed his and Lauren's fate so long ago, his mind was made; this was no longer her battle to fight. It would be miraculous if she even got out of this alive.

And so he went. Donning his black coat, now stained a deep wine shade, with his sword strapped to his waist, he took one final look around the room. Silence from the bedroom spurred him out the door and into the darkness.

\-----

Lights from the windows of sleepy two-stories flashed past him as Kieran slipped silently through the alleyways. He was only checking the important things now. His sword, sharpened to a ruthless point. His resolve, hard as stone. And most importantly, the critical documents containing unthinkable secrets, slipped into a folder and hidden underneath Lauren's pillow. This would be enough for her to finish the rest. All Kieran needed to do now was clear the path for her by killing the Apostle and his assassins, who were certainly waiting for him in the abandoned building. It was a suicide mission, but Kieran was willing to do it if she could be spared. If not his humanity, his innocence, or his honor, at least he could keep Dylan's promise.

 _Yes. This is how it should be_ , he thought bitterly. After years of slaughter and merciless execution, no amount of atonement could wash the blood from his hands. His actions could not be reversed, so the least he could do was die with what little dignity he had left. He knew this was a fight he could not win. He would not leave the building alive.

However, the certainty of his fate provided a strange comfort. Death, with soft cold hands of marble, caressed Kieran's face with the tenderness of a mother. Her touch was soothing, as if to say, "Come. It will all be over soon. You won't suffer anymore."

So it was this simple after all. All Kieran searched for this whole time was closure. Assurance that he could fulfill Dylan's last wish, assurance that out of all the innocent faces massacred, at least hers could be saved. Hers, which he had only seen in his dreams until the fateful encounter in autumn. Hers, which reawakened his heart after years of solitude and emptiness. Hers, which reflected in Dylan's eyes even as the life drained from them. Hers, which he had promised to protect.

After all these years, Kieran didn't really want to take down the Phantom Scythe after all. Just dying to protect her, spilling his own blood to wash away that of his countless victims, would justify his end. It would feel good. It would feel great. The brutal death which his emblem had symbolized for so long would finally free him from his living nightmare.

These were Kieran's last thoughts before he stepped into the darkness of the decrepit factory. As soon as his face was shadowed by the rotting beams and smell of death inside the building, he reverted to the Purple Hyacinth for the last time.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading the first installment of my PH ending AU! I really appreciate all the support!!🙏🏻♥️


End file.
